


An Edict from Paris

by JaneSkazki



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29922387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneSkazki/pseuds/JaneSkazki
Summary: Chekov copes with the fallout from a medical emergency.
Kudos: 5





	An Edict from Paris

An Edict from Paris

*** Nine Weeks ***

"It's a court order forbidding me to..." McCoy hesitated and looked down at the screen of the padd. "Forbidding me to carry out any further unnatural, blasphemous and sacrilegious interventions in the course of this pregnancy. Further, I am 'enjoined to give emotional and psychological support and carry out, with my full professional skill and discretion, all such medical and pharmaceutical acts as are necessary to bring the pregnancy to full term'."

Kirk nodded as he took in the provisions, then glanced across at his science officer. "Spock?"

"Captain?"

"Does that... order, have any power in this situation?"

"I believe so. The... uh... wording is only to be expected from a religiously fundamentalist culture such as that of Deuteronomy III. However, the applicants' lawyers in this case have been careful to provide justification under Federation statute, and to obtain an emergency ruling from a Federation judge making the order binding anywhere within Federation jurisdiction. An appeal to a higher court is of course an option, however, the more positive terms of the ruling would probably be upheld. While the mother of a foetus in utero is entitled to obtain a termination under certain circumstances by most legal systems within the Federation..."

"...There is no mother involved here."

"Precisely. And we are therefore forced to fall back on Federation law relating to injury to the foetus caused by a third party, and also certain 'good Samaritan' laws, which require bystanders and witnesses to crimes to take positive action in order to minimise the harm to certain classes of vulnerable individuals. There is too the question of medical ethics. Since statistically, it appears that the child is actually safer in its present location than in an artificial uterus, Doctor McCoy may feel constrained by the requirement that he 'do no harm'."

"I can do my own agonising over this, thanks, Spock," McCoy said irritably.

Kirk shook himself, and poured himself and his chief medical officer another brandy each.

Spock steepled his fingers. "It is anomalous, even paradoxical, but I can see no timely solution to the problem, other, perhaps, than time itself. In seven months, all will be resolved."

***

"Don't!"

Chekov looked bewilderedly at his empty hand which had been wrapped round a glass of vodka only moments before.

"You're... you can't..."

"I can't drink vodka?"

Uhura shook her head. "No. Surely you know that."

"Because I'm _pregnant_?"

"Look, I know it's not exactly an ordinary pregnancy, but that probably makes it all the more important that you don't take any unnecessary risks." Uhura slid the glass firmly to the far end of the table, and pushed her own helping of orange juice towards the navigator in exchange. "And when it's all over, you can go on a blind drunk, if you want. It's not as if you have to breastfeed."

Chekov looked even more offended.

"Come on, Chekov," Sulu chimed in encouragingly. "If you were baby-sitting, you wouldn't drink."

"Yes, I would. When I took care of my cousins, I would always drink my uncles' vodka. That was understood." He glared at the orange juice. "And besides, I _agreed_ to baby-sit for my cousins. No one asked me this time."

"It _was_ an emergency," Uhura said.

Chekov didn't deny it, but then he didn't seem prepared to admit that it made any difference either. He prodded at the glass of orange juice with his finger tip.

"You should drink it. Lots of... um... vitamins. You have to remember you're eating for two now."

"Shut up," Chekov and Uhura told Sulu simultaneously.

"Oh, for crying out loud," the helmsman said impatiently. "Look at the facts. You had a serious abdominal injury. Angela had a fatal chest wound and was eight weeks pregnant. There was one Ragtarrian medic, in a burned out field hospital. He could have gone to get an artificial uterus for the baby, and left you to bleed to death. He could have ditched the baby and concentrated on sewing you up. No one could have criticised him if he'd done either of those. Instead, he worked out a... a brilliant way to save both of you. Aren't you at least glad for Angela's sake?"

He waited for some sign of softening, some hint of sentimental satisfaction at being the salvation of an unborn child. There was none.

"I think he was _almost_ pleased until he met Angela's husband," Uhura said for the ensign.

"Pharisaical prig." Chekov picked up the orange juice and downed it in one.

"It would have helped if he'd been the least bit grateful," Uhura conceded. "Instead of..."

"Instead of acting as if _I_ was a mere artificial uterus, a defective one."

"Look on the bright side," Uhura suggested. "Captain Kirk absolutely refused leave of absence for you to go to Deuteronomy..."

"And be prayed over for the next six months. They would not have been satisfied until they brainwashed me into converting. Bigots."

"And their courts seem to have accepted that one. They just want you to keep the baby safe."

" _Just_. Just morning sickness, and back ache, and swollen ankles, and mood swings, and insomnia, and _no vodka_ for nearly a year. That is all. So little to ask."

"Doctor McCoy will take the best possible care of you."

"He will stick as many needles into me as possible, you mean. If he had moved the foetus to an artificial uterus as soon as we returned to the ship..."

"He couldn't stabilise her sufficiently. He explained. And it never occurred to him..." Uhura stopped, struck by Chekov's pained expression. "Does that bother you?"

"What _doesn't_ bother him about this?" Sulu asked. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table. He wanted a drink himself, but it seemed unchivalrous to indulge when Chekov couldn't. On the other hand, seven months was a long time. He picked up his beer again.

"I mean, does it bother you that the baby is a girl?"

"Not as much as it bothers me that her father is a brain dead, bigoted, obsessive, puritanical, ungrateful...

"That isn't her fault."

Chekov scowled unrepentantly.

"I think you need to adjust your viewpoint, that's all. You're helping out. You're protecting the innocent. All it's costing you is a little temporary discomfort."

"Oh," Chekov said, in a tone that set alarm bells ringing. "So. I am injured. I am unconscious. I wake up and discover that I am pregnant. Does this begin to sound at all... familiar, like something that might happen to anyone else? I have never met the father. I request a... not a termination, no, but a _relocation_ of the pregnancy, so that I can continue my career, and my life. And I find that the legal system of the entire Federation forbids it. Can anyone here think of a four letter word for what happened to me?"

Sulu shrugged. "Fucked? Screwed?"

The ensign narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And since I did not give my consent for this procedure?"

"Oh, don't dramatise, Chekov. You men are all the same. Sure, you didn't consent to getting pregnant. That doesn't mean you were raped. It was the fortunes of war. Everyone was doing the best they could in impossible circumstances." Uhura slid her hand across the table and trapped his, squeezing it. " _You_ are doing the best you can in difficult circumstances, I know..."

She stopped, because Chekov had yanked his hand free and was walking away. Towards Riley, who was balancing a breakfast tray and looking for somewhere to sit.

"How's the little mother today?" the Irishman asked, as loud as he could without actually yelling.

***

"If Riley had forgotten you were... had forgotten what condition you're in, and hit back, you'd almost certainly have lost the baby. Ensign, if you're not going to act responsibly, I'm going to ask the captain to confine you to sickbay for the duration. And believe me..." McCoy sighed heavily. "That is the last thing I want to do to me... I mean, you."

Chekov, the grazes on his knuckles tingling slightly under new skin, sat on a biobed. He looked up at McCoy. "You could keep the baby in here and let me go. That way..."

"No." McCoy pulled a chair over and sat down. "She's hanging on by a thread, Pavel. If we move her, we'll almost certainly damage her, if we don't lose her altogether. She's in the best place she can be right now. It's pure luck that you're such a good DNA match to Angela and we don't have to give you immunosuppressants, but since you are, we have to take advantage of the fact."

"I thought I had to do this because of the Deuteronomians, not because..."

"If I move her, I'll probably spend the next forty years fighting them in court, but that's a risk I'd consider, _if_ I wasn't also convinced in my own mind that you are in no danger, and the baby is best left where she is, at least for now."

"What about the danger to Lieutenant Riley?" Chekov asked innocently.

"Once his jaw is fixed, I'll just ban him from sickbay. If it's going to be a problem."

"The captain could put him in the brig."

"Chekov, in a few days, the novelty will wear off, and no one is going to give this a second thought."

*** Ten weeks ***

__

__

"Hi, Pavel."

__

Chekov turned from contemplating the padd in his hands to look at Nichols, a crewman from Mister Scott's department. He tried to remember on which drunken occasion he'd invited Nichols to use his first name. He wasn't at all sure they'd ever actually spoken. He glanced back down at the letter from his mother. 'One of the wonderful things about being pregnant is the way people open up to you. They seem to feel they have a stake in the baby's future, and they want to take care of you.'

__

He sighed. "Yes?"

__

"How are you... uh... feeling?"

__

"Nauseated," Chekov said crisply, returning to his letter. 'The morning sickness is bad, of course, but I was over that by about the eighth month. I found eating pickled walnuts first thing helped to settle my stomach...'

__

"I miss Angela."

__

Chekov looked up, slowly, and stared at Nichols. The engineer was nearly two metres tall, built like a torpedo casing, with astonishing baby blue eyes. "I didn't know she knew you," he said cautiously. 'I didn't know _I_ knew you', he added to himself.

____

"She wasn't too... um... happy about going back to Deuteronomy at the end of her three years. And that was only four months away, so... we used to talk. About things."

____

"She was happy enough to spend her last leave getting pregnant," Chekov said bluntly.

____

Nichols leaned in closer to Chekov, as if the turbolift was full of eavesdroppers. "That didn't happen while she was on leave."

____

The walls of the lift began to pulse slightly. Chekov took a step back, so he could lean against one. It was surprisingly rigid to the touch.

____

"Did you have any breakfast, Pav? You look awfully pale."

____

____

***

____

____

"Pickled walnuts."

____

"What? What did he say?"

____

Chekov struggled to bring sickbay into focus. Christine Chapel was standing on one side of the bed, looking disapproving. McCoy was on the other, looking furious. Chekov closed his eyes again.

____

"Nichols brought you in. Said you fainted in the turbolift. If you don't have the sense to eat breakfast, or at least come and tell someone if you can't face breakfast, I'm going to have to take you off duty. What if you collapsed on the bridge, hm?"

____

"I'm going to be ill."

____

"Get a bowl, Nurse."

____

Every muscle in Chekov's abdomen seemed determined to expel the invader by force, but to no avail. Afterwards, and after a cup of weak tea, a few dry crackers and a hypo full of glucose solution, the ensign admitted to feeling just a little better.

____

"In future, I want you to report here every morning, half an hour before you're due to go on duty. I'll clear you one day at a time. I need your cooperation here, Mister. Being an officer on this ship is a privilege, not a right."

____

"Yes, sir."

____

"Take the morning off. Get some gentle exercise. A walk in the arboretum."

____

"Or I could ask someone to teach me to knit," Chekov suggested icily.

____

____

*** Fourteen weeks ***

____

____

"Hi, Chekov, how's it going? You feeling okay?"

____

Chekov muttered ill-temperedly that he felt fine. After the fifth inquiry after his health this morning he'd begun to get suspicious. Someone had obviously 'talked' to the crew. There hadn't been one joke today, not even one snigger. And he was beginning to notice that all the male crewmembers were wearing their tunics a couple of sizes larger than usual, as if reacting like a flock of fashion victims to an edict from Paris. In this case, clearly, the captain rather than Chanel had ruled that uniforms would be baggy for a while.

____

He wondered if he was infuriated because he was pregnant, and awash with unfamiliar hormones, or simply because... because he was infuriated. He turned his back on this latest well-wisher and continued on his way to sickbay.

____

"You've lost a couple of pounds." McCoy pursed his lips. "We'll keep an eye on you, maybe slip some extra calories in between meals. Try having a glass of milk mid-morning and mid-afternoon, not too close to when you normally eat."

____

Chekov couldn't help smiling at the thought that McCoy, in his extra-large blue science tunic, looked more in need of additional calories than he did. "Yes, Doctor."

____

"Did you sleep okay last night?"

____

"No, Doctor."

____

"No? Why not?"

____

"I don't know. Do I need your permission to suffer from insomnia?"

____

McCoy scowled and moved on to the next item on his checklist. "Sexual relations..."

____

"Excuse me?"

____

"Normally, I give... uh... female patients a pep talk on sex at this point. But... There's a problem with you."

____

Chekov rolled his eyes. "As usual."

____

"Well, obviously you're not as well designed to carry the baby safely as a woman would be, although with a little imagination..."

____

Chekov stared unforgivingly at the doctor, 'I cannot believe we are having this conversation' written all over his face.

____

"But aside from that, the chemical consequences of sexual activitity in a woman's body aren't damaging to a developing foetus. I just don't know whether that's true for a pregnant male."

____

"Who would want to have sex with a pregnant man anyway?"

____

McCoy was starting to blush almost as much as Chekov. "Well, there's... two-person sex, and there's... um... one person sex."

____

____

*** Seventeen weeks ***

____

____

Chekov put his continued irritability down to the prohibition on one-person sex in his life, since he couldn't pinpoint anyone who was specifically annoying him at present. Riley was walking around with an air of dumb innocence, Uhura was intercepting any and all mail that contained text relating to pregnancy, birth or huge payments for product endorsements, (including the tirades that arrived several times a day from the families of Ephraim and Angela Smith) and most of his colleagues had bribed the quartermaster to give them uniforms only half a size too large overall, but slightly long in the arm, since that seemed to satisfy the captain.

____

He reckoned he'd be able to sit at the navigator's station quite comfortably for another three weeks or so, but he wasn't really thinking that far ahead. Once he couldn't see his toes without taking extraordinary measures, he'd... he'd... he'd think about that later. For now, he was concentrating on replacing a fused relay in the navigation circuitry. The Jeffries tube seemed a little more cramped than usual, but on the other hand, there weren't many places where he could work lying flat on his back. He wasn't ready to admit it yet, but his feet were generally aching by the end of a shift. He made the final connection and started to feel around for the cover plate.

____

"Pavel, what the hell are you doing?" Hands hooked under his armpits and dragged him backwards out of the tube. His tools, and the components he'd removed, bounced away into the shadows. He emerged, blinking, into the maintenance access. Nichols was dancing a little jig of rage.

____

"Can't you read! You idiot! This is a class A restricted area. You shouldn't be in here."

____

Chekov sat up and pulled his tunic straight over his abdomen. "I checked the area for radiation and chemical hazards and Mister Scott agreed it was safe."

____

"I don't fucking care if a shuttle-load of Safety Inspectors came and gave it their blessing. You shouldn't be in that tube."

____

Chekov shrugged. "Very well. If it's so dangerous, Mister Nichols, you fix it."

____

"Okay. You tell me what it was, and what you were doing."

____

Puzzling though Nichol's behaviour was, his readiness to help made a refreshing change from most people's approach of handing out advice and leaving Chekov to struggle with the practicalities of following it. The ensign leaned back against a bulkhead and decided to make the most of this opportunity to relax.

____

"The starboard subsidiary navigational array..."

____

"Oh, okay. I heard Mister Scott reporting it to the captain." Nichols vanished through the hatch. His voice emerged distorted by the small space. "Where did you put the clips?"

____

"On the decking next to the flashlight, where I could find them again."

____

"I can't see the flashlight."

____

"I think you knocked it over when you pulled me out."

____

"Sorry! It's okay. I've got them. Have you... um... is Ephraim taking much interest in the baby?"

____

"I have no idea. I have stopped reading his letters. Also his mother's letters, his sisters' letters, his aunts' letters..."

____

"Jeez. They're all going to be so disappointed."

____

"Why? After I have gone to so much trouble, they..."

____

Nichols stuck his head out through the hatch. "I don't know how long it's going to take, but sooner or later someone's going to ask for a blood test, or just wonder why she doesn't look at all like her father."

____

Chekov opened his eyes. "Hold on for just a moment..."

____

"I reckon Angela's parents will look after her, though."

____

"Are you telling me that Ephraim Smith is not the father of this child?" Chekov laid a hand over the bulge.

____

Nichols sighed and came to sit down on the deck next to Chekov. "I told you the other day. Jeez, Pav, for a command stream ensign, you sure take a while to catch on sometimes."

____

"Then who is the father?"

____

"I am."

____

"You?"

____

"Oh, don't worry. I know I'm twice the size of Ephraim Smith, but Nichols babies are just the standard size when they hatch. You'll be okay."

____

Chekov was barely listening. "I'm not worried. I'm fine. I am about to stop being pregnant..."

____

"What?"

____

"Well, of course. If Ephraim Smith is not the father of the child, then the court order can't apply. Doctor McCoy can..."

____

"Hang on, Pav!"

____

"I am going to tell him..."

____

Chekov tried to stand up, but Nichols held him in place with a hand on his shoulder. "Wait just a moment. We're talking about my daughter here. And the doctor told me she's safer where she is."

____

Chekov swatted the restraining hand away. "Doctor McCoy _knows_ that you are the father?"

____

"Sure. Medical confidence, though. He can't tell anyone else. I went to see him because I was depressed about all this."

____

"I can request a DNA test..."

____

"I'll deny what I just told you, and Smith and his family will fight it because of the risk to the baby. They'll think it's just a manoeuvre by you to get a termination. The court won't allow it."

____

"Why are you doing this to me?" Chekov demanded.

____

"I'm not doing _anything_ to you, Pav. I'm grateful to you, really. But I have to look out for Angelina. And you're not in any danger so long as you let Doctor McCoy look after you. I checked that out with him. Really. Just take care, do what you're told, and you'll be okay."

____

" _Angelina_?"

____

"After her mother."

____

"I realised that."

____

"Are you okay?" Nichols asked solicitously, after Chekov had remained uncharacteristically silent for twenty seconds.

____

"No, I am not fucking okay, but I think I will feel much better if I get very, very drunk when I go off duty today. Then perhaps half an hour of vigorous exercise, and a very hot bath..."

____

"You can't! If I tell Doctor McCoy you said that, he'll..."

____

"I'm going to see Doctor Mcoy right now. I will tell him myself. Is inhaling tobacco smoke actually illegal, or just so stupid that no one does it any longer?" Chekov rose awkwardly to his feet. He swayed slightly with an unexpected surge of dizziness. Nichols was there immediately, a hand at his elbow. "Pav, please..."

____

"And if that doesn't work, I will refuse to eat."

____

"Pav, you can't do this. You can't hurt little Angel. Doctor McCoy showed me the latest scans this morning. I could see everything, all her fingers and toes, and her face. She's perfect. She's wonderful. You can't possibly _hurt_ her."

____

Chekov stopped dead in the corridor. He'd refused to look at the scans himself, despite McCoy's enthusiastic cooing over the pictures. "He showed you my scans? What about patient confidentiality?"

____

"Don't be ridiculous, Pav. I'm her father."

____

"Right." Chekov swerved away from the corridor to sickbay, heading to the ship's legal office instead. Nichols continued in pursuit.

____

"What are you going to do?"

____

"Sue. You can admit to being the father and save Leonard McCoy from losing his medical licence, or you can..."

____

"No contest," Nichols conceded instantly. "He can get a job as a vet or something. Angelina has to come first."

____

"You bastard." Chekov paused instinctively at the door to the office, raising his hand to request admittance. The hand fell to his stomach and his eyes closed. "Oh God..."

____

"What? What's wrong?"

____

"I don't know."

____

"You'd better get to sickbay right away."

____

"Not until I've taken legal advice. I may not wish to imply satisfaction with Doctor McCoy's behaviour by continuing to allow him to treat me."

____

"Pav..." Nichols was beginning to sound panicky.

____

The door opened. "Legal privilege. You have to wait outside," Chekov snapped.

____

Lieutenant Kernan eyed the ensign from her leather covered chair. "You're wasting your time, Chekov. There's nothing I can do for you."

____

Chekov shook his head and pulled out a chair for himself. "No. There must be cases relating to surrogacy arrangements. What if the surrogate changes her mind, or wants to do something that might endanger the child..."

____

"It would be covered by the surrogacy contract. No one goes into a surrogacy nowadays without a standard contract."

____

"But I was unconscious!"

____

Kernan spread her open hands on the polished surface of the desk. "I'm sorry, Chekov. Surrogacy contracts are a way of life. If you didn't actually sign one, the courts will simply infer all the standard terms."

____

"I'm _not_ a surrogate."

____

"Maybe you are, maybe you're not. All I know is, it'll take at least..." She scrutinised the bulge. "...twenty four weeks for a court to make a ruling one way or the other."

____

"It's not fair!" Chekov all but howled.

____

She shrugged. "Let me give you some advice. You're over-emotional. See your doctor."

____

"I am not over-emotional. I am being persecuted. Can I seek political asylum somewhere?"

____

"Scratch over-emotional and substitute hysterical. Do you want me to get you a cup of tea or something?"

____

Chekov suddenly leaned forward in his seat, clutching his stomach.

____

"Don't try to get my sympathy that way. If there's one thing I hate, it's a man who acts like a wuss."

____

"Call Doctor McCoy. Please."

____

"Oh, so you think he's competent now you're in pain?"

____

"I'm not in pain. It feels... it feels like someone is juggling with balloons in my gut." Chekov looked up to see if Kernan, by some womanly instinct, would be able to interpret this for him. She was beaming.

____

"How many weeks are you?" she asked solicitously.

____

"Sixteen, more or less. No, seventeen, since Angela must have lied about when she conceived."

____

"You can feel her kicking, that's all. Here..." She strode round the desk and held out her hand. "Let me feel."

____

"Certainly not."

____

"Go on." She took in Chekov's hostile body language and retreated a couple of steps. "Well, at least feel it yourself. Just put your hand on the bump, as close as you can to where you feel the kick."

____

"I don't want to."

____

She leaned over to press the intercom. "Are you still waiting out there? Come in and feel the baby kicking."

____

The door shot open and Nichols skidded to a halt by the desk. "You can feel her kicking? Really?"

____

Hunched in his chair, Chekov held them at bay momentarily by sheer frown-power, then gave in. "Okay. You may feel it, if you must."

____

"Thank you! You can't possibly know how much this means to me." Nichols sank to his knees at Chekov's feet and let his hand hover above the ensign's tunic.

____

"What are you waiting for?" Chekov wanted to know.

____

"Well, aren't you going to... you know..."

____

"Get your tunic out of the way," Kernan interpreted.

____

There was a long moment of silence as the engineer laid his enormous hand on Chekov's naked stomach, then Nichols started to grin like a maniac. "I can feel her. I can really feel her."

____

"It is probably gas," Chekov said disparagingly.

____

"No, no. It's definitely Angelina. Lieutenant, are you recording this interview?"

____

"Naturally. Why?"

____

"Can I send a copy to my mother, please?"

____

Chekov shot out of his chair, almost knocking Nichols over. "I am not having video recordings of you feeling my stomach distributed to all your friends and relations."

____

"Only my mother, Pav. You could send your mother one too."

____

"She doesn't want one."

____

"Have you asked her?"

____

"No. And I don't intend to."

____

"Okay, okay. I won't send the recording to anyone. Lieutenant Kernan wouldn't let me anyway. She's very hot on confidentiality."

____

"She has been advising you too?"

____

"I'm the only lawyer aboard, Chekov. I just ran through his options with him, off the record. But don't worry. My natural sympathy with Damien's interests in this case won't stop me representing you to the best of my ability."

____

"Doesn't anyone have any sympathy for me?" Chekov whined.

____

Kernan shook her head. "Yes, but... Damien and I are engaged."

____

"Engaged? He was sleeping with Angela Smith seventeen weeks ago, and now he's engaged to _you_?"

____

Nichols looked marginally embarrassed, but Kernan brushed Chekov's outrage aside. "Fatherhood can be very attractive in a man," she said, smiling tenderly at her fiancé.

____

"Unlike motherhood," Chekov said bitterly.

____

____

*** Thirty six weeks ***

____

____

"Two point two kilos. Forty five centimetres in length. Heart and lung function optimal. Do you want to hold her, Mister Nichols?"

____

"She's so..." Nichols seemed overcome with emotion.

____

Chekov tried to move his feet, but the anaesthetic was still blocking any muscle control below his ribs.

____

"Beautiful?" he suggested. "Perfect?"

____

"Both," Nichols said sincerely. He accepted his mewling daughter from the nurse's hands. "Look, she's gripping my thumb! And her eyes are exactly the same blue as mine..."

____

Chekov lay back and closed his eyes. At a moment like this, it was easy to forget all the discomfort and inconvenience... and indignity, humiliation, boredom and deprivation. It had been hell, but the mission was safely completed.

____

____

The End

____


End file.
